The air was tense. On one hand, the lumen forces would likely reach the harbor soon. On the other, Noah had them cornered.

  “So…” Seliane began, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “That whole speech about being a young demon hunted by the lumens... was that all a lie?”

  Noah let out a dry, mocking chuckle.

  “And you believed it,” he said without a hint of shame. “You felt sorry for me, didn’t you, Dawnbringer?”

  Lyciah stiffened and took a step back.

  “It’s so easy to deceive na?ve girls like you. A few sad words, a well-told story… and you were ready to get back on the ship.”

  Then his gaze shifted to the blond man. His confident smile vanished, replaced by pure fury.

  “But you,” he said. “You had to show up out of nowhere and ruin everything. Who the hell are you? A vampire playing hero? I already had her! I was about to earn the Seventh’s favor and you’ve ruined it!”

  The blond man frowned. He didn’t look surprised, but it had been a long time since he’d heard that name.

  “The Seventh…” he murmured.

  “The Seventh?” Momoru asked. “You mean…?”

  “No...” Noah cut in, his voice cracked, almost delirious. “I won’t let you ruin this. You never should have gotten involved. You’ll die for nothing. You… and the other two as well.”

  Seliane instinctively rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, but Momoru stopped her at once.

  “Wait,” he said urgently. “If what he’s saying is true, Noah is over four hundred years old. We’re no match for him.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” Seliane snapped. “If he’s four hundred years old, we can’t outrun him either!”

  Noah didn’t give them time to decide. He lunged forward without warning, moving at inhuman speed. Seliane had no time to react. Lyciah felt fear seize her chest.

  And then, something invisible stood in his way. Noah slammed into a translucent barrier that materialized in front of the group. He staggered back, stunned.

  “That’s impossible,” he said with a tense laugh. “Vampires don’t do this. What kind of trick is this?”

  The blond man stepped forward. His posture was straight, calm. There was no tension in his expression, only unwavering serenity.

  “Step away,” he said flatly.

  “Step away?” Noah scoffed. “Do you know who I am? I’ve lived four centuries. I’m not backing down because of some arrogant vampire—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  The man drew his sword and closed the distance in a single second. Noah didn’t have time to react before he felt steel strike. It wasn’t excessive. It wasn’t brutal. It was precise. Elegant. Every movement that followed was clean, disciplined, almost military.

  Noah collapsed to his knees, gasping and wounded. The man raised his sword, the blade resting at his throat.

  “Who… are you…?” Noah stammered.

  “Someone you shouldn’t have provoked.”

  Noah was stunned. He had never seen anything like this. Never felt that kind of pressure. That restrained power.

  But then something inside him snapped. He no longer cared. When the blond man lowered his guard, Noah lunged for Lyciah.

  Everything happened too fast. Lyciah didn’t even have time to scream. But the blond man was faster. In a single, fluid, decisive motion, he stepped between them, his sword piercing straight through Noah. The demon collapsed lifeless to the ground.

  The man wiped the blade with a calm gesture and sheathed it, like a knight who had simply fulfilled his duty.

  Lyciah, frozen and pale, stared at Noah’s body. Before Seliane could say anything, the blond man spoke.

  “He was a succubus,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just defeated a four-hundred-year-old demon. “It seems he made some kind of deal with the Seventh to bring you to Greece. Possibly in exchange for protection… though trusting his promises never makes sense. He would’ve likely killed him the moment he delivered you.”

  Lyciah remained in shock. Noah, the man who had seemed kind, who claimed he wanted to help her, was dead.

  “I’ve been wondering…” Momoru said after a moment of silence. “When you say ‘the Seventh,’ you mean Ekchron, right? The Seventh Ancestral? The monster of time?”

  The man nodded.

  “But… why?” Seliane murmured. “The Ancestrals are the oldest demons, the ones with the greatest authority. If he wanted Lyciah, he could’ve come himself. He didn’t need a puppet like Noah. It would’ve been faster. More effective.”

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  Lyciah finally stirred.

  “From what I’ve read…” she began slowly, her voice still trembling. “Each Ancestral has their own territory. There’s an unspoken rule that forbids them from invading one another. If he’s in Greece right now…” She paused, thinking. “I assume that’s his territory. That might be why he needed someone like Noah to do the dirty work.”

  The three exchanged looks. If this was true, it meant someone as powerful and dangerous as Ekchron had set his sights on Lyciah. That was far more terrifying than Heliora.

  The blond man turned away, clearly intending to leave without another word.

  “H-Hey!” Seliane stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going? You defeat a four-hundred-year-old demon without breaking a sweat… and you just walk away without explaining anything?”

  Lyciah looked at him. There was no fear in her eyes. Only curiosity.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “You always appear out of nowhere, say something cryptic… and disappear.”

  The blond man watched her for a few seconds, as if deciding whether the question deserved an answer.

  “Caelan.”

  Lyciah blinked.

  “Ca… Caelan?” she repeated. “Caelan…?”

  “Yes.”

  Absolute silence. Even Seliane didn’t dare speak. Momoru stopped breathing for half a second.

  “Caelan… the…?” Lyciah finally murmured. “The Second? Caelan of the Oath? The Guardian? The one from all the ancient stories. The one who—”

  “That one,” he confirmed.

  Momoru stared at him as if he were standing before a living legend.

  “But—” Lyciah started speaking too fast. “That means you’re over five thousand years old and you’ve seen empires fall and you probably know things no one else knows and Sel, my friend, called you—”

  “Crane man,” Caelan said.

  Seliane froze.

  “I— That was a joke.”

  “I know. Cranes don’t usually talk,” he replied. “Still, I wasn’t expecting a title today.”

  A laugh escaped Lyciah before she could stop herself. She immediately covered her mouth with both hands, mortified.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, genuinely confused.

  Lyciah panicked.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, still red.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “I’m aware I don’t make a good first impression.” He paused, thoughtful. “Nor a second.”

  Lyciah stared at him for a second... then burst out laughing again, louder this time. She tried to stop. Coughed.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said once she calmed down. “I shouldn’t be laughing. I wasn’t laughing at you… well, maybe a little, but not in a disrespectful way. It’s just—this was unexpected and I was really nervous and you’re an Ancestral and I— I don’t know. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again—”

  Seliane nudged her with an elbow. Lyciah realized she was rambling and cleared her throat.

  “Can we pretend I didn’t say any of that? Can we erase this conversation from time? Can’t you do that? Control time or something?” She gestured wildly. “Isn’t that one of the demonic powers?”

  “That’s Ekchron.”

  “And he can erase this conversation?” she asked hopefully.

  Caelan watched her in silence for a few seconds. Seliane and Momoru were starting to think Lyciah had crossed every possible line without noticing.

  “No,” Caelan said at last, completely serious. “But Ekchron tends to simplify problems.”

  Lyciah let out a strangled gasp.

  As Lyciah and Caelan continued talking about increasingly absurd things, Seliane and Momoru exchanged looks. They could no longer tell whether Caelan was joking, completely serious… or if his entire existence was some kind of cosmic comedy. But Lyciah looked strangely happy.

  “By the way,” Caelan added, “do lumens usually laugh like that when they’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown, or is that just you?”

  While the group didn’t know whether to laugh or be afraid, General Eryon watched from afar.

  “Lucky you, princess,” he murmured. “The Eternal Knight.”

  “General Eryon,” a lumen soldier reported. “The units are in position. We can intervene on your order.”

  “Of course we can,” Eryon replied. “And we can also commit perfectly organized suicide.”

  “Sir?”

  Eryon didn’t take his eyes off the demon.

  “Withdraw. We return to Elyndra. The Queen must be informed. The Dawnbringer is under the protection of the Second Ancestral.”

  At that title, the soldier straightened instantly and relayed the retreat order.

  ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  In Greece, the macabre celebrations had come to a halt. Now, they gave way to anger.

  “I’ve lost contact with that useless idiot,” Ekchron muttered. “By now he should’ve confirmed they boarded the ship and are sailing here. If he hasn’t…”

  “It means he failed,” Nikandros concluded without looking up.

  Ekchron clicked his tongue.

  “I didn’t expect much from a succubus, but I trusted him to complete something that simple. Get a na?ve girl onto a ship. It didn’t even require creativity.”

  The door opened softly. A beautiful woman slipped into the room. Long, straight black hair. Bright eyes. A provocative smile. She walked up behind Ekchron and rested her chin on his shoulder.

  “You seem to be in a bad mood,” she whispered, amused.

  “I need to kill someone,” Ekchron replied flatly.

  “I thought you were killing more than usual because you were celebrating,” Nikandros said lazily. “You’ve already ruined my favorite carpet. Could you not kill anyone tonight? The party’s over. The Dawnbringer won’t be yours.”

  “That’s precisely why,” Ekchron said, pushing the woman away and dropping onto the sofa. “I need to unwind. You know how I unwind.”

  “Yes,” Nikandros replied. “Exactly the same way you celebrate.”

  The woman laughed softly and sat on Ekchron’s lap without hesitation.

  “Maybe tonight you could unwind in a different way,” she murmured, leaning in too close.

  Ekchron pretended to sigh. A dangerous smile curved his lips.

  “You’re Athens’ heroine tonight, Hati,” he said softly, guiding her down and leaning over her. “Thanks to you, no one is going to die.”

  Nikandros shook his head. At least Athens was safe tonight. And so were his carpets.

  “However…” Ekchron murmured as he bit into Hati’s neck. “I think a change of scenery might do me some good. Spain, for instance.”

  Hati shuddered—more from the slowness of his touch than from the contact itself.

  “I sent someone else to do the dirty work. I was patient. Polite,” Ekchron continued. “And look at the result. Probably dead.”

  “Trusting him was adorably optimistic of you,” Hati whispered.

  Ekchron paused for a moment, enjoying the moment before replying.

  “It’s always disappointing to realize I’m still the least terrible choice.”